


Little Bird

by galacticGenetics



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Daddykink, Drugging, I have proven god isn't real cause I was allowed to write this, M/M, Restraints, Scary Clowns, degredation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticGenetics/pseuds/galacticGenetics
Summary: So. SometimesYou say thingsAnd no one stops you when you say things.This started as a joke in the 18+ Dead by Daylight server I joined and they were tragically nothing but supportive.This is dedicated to you guys.I love yall.Dwight has a bad day.I am warning youThis is not pleasant .
Relationships: Kenneth "Jeffrey Hawk" Chase | The Clown/Dwight Fairfield
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	Little Bird

Coulrophobia, the irrational fear of clowns.  
Dwight Fairfield is no stranger to fear, considered to be a nervous wreck of a man in most situations.  
While yes, he's impressively pulled himself together in these dire times...  
His heartbeat often gives him away.  
The panic.  
And boy does he hate that fucking clown.  
Of all the terrifying figures he's faced- floating specters, chainsaw wielding hillbillies, and things from other worlds- that greasepaint freak set something awful off inside him.  
The sound of his wheezey laugh haunted his ears and the noxious smell of his bombs and boozey breathe as he neared...sickening.  
His gut twists even thinking about that painted grin.  
Mockingly friendly.  
Come closer, kid  
Got a joke for ya  
The only joke here is him, fighting for his life. Again.  
A joke he never found very fucking funny.  
Christ, he'd take those demonic middle school bullies in the stupid masks over this.

This time he was sent back to the asylum, more specifically the chapel.   
Fine, easy enough. While the Entity liked to shift and warp each realm on a whim he's ran through these hells enough to be upsettingly familiar.  
But sadly where there is circus music...there's circus freaks, and this time was no different.  
The smells of rust and decay rolls within the fog, but before too long that perfume that followed the clown becomes painfully pungent.   
Fuck. He was close.  
'It's okay' he thinks to himself as beads of sweat begin to roll down his forehead. 'It's okay, keep it together. Just keep working. He's far off enough I can finish th-'  
The thought is cut off as the generator backfires, sparks flying into his face and making him recoil back.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Scrambling backwards, Dwight resolved to abandon that generator and loop back around eventually to avoid being caught.  
That was his whole thing! Make himself small, sneak, and escape.  
More mouse than a man, in all fairness.  
No...No Dwight was a frightened little bird.  
A frightened little bird, small and flapping with a fluttering little heart and clipped wings.   
That ever betraying heartbeat pounds in his chest as he attempts to make his escape. Attempts being the key phrase here.

In his panicked state, crouched low to avoid being seen he smacks face first into tacky striped legs, and before he knows it the Clown's stupid fucking butterfly knife comes slicing down into his back.  
Searing-almost unnatural pain ripped through him, and he can't contain the scream. No matter how many times, the pain is never any easier.

Gotta get away, run the opposite direction.  
How did that freak even find him? How did he not notice?? The guy was HUGE! It still surprises him how disturbingly nimble he was.  
It doesn't take long before the second hit comes and Dwight is downed to the damp earth, another pained yelp and groans slipping from his throat.   
Even as he begins to try and crawl away, nails digging into the soil for leverage, he braces for the Clown's filthy hand to yank him up and carry him to the hook.  
His body was tense, ready to start thrashing to get away.  
But...the grab doesn't come.  
...Weird?  
Is this like the times where he's used as bait? Someone will come to heal him and the killer will come from around the corner and down them too?

No...no this is different.  
The towering killer just stands there, his cold eyes baring down into Dwight's back.  
Against his better judgment, Dwight peers over his shoulder to get a better look as he keeps trying to pull himself away.   
Yeah  
he's just standing there.  
Smiling.  
That flaking painted on smile parts, tongue slipping out to lick his lips, and he just keeps watching.

What the fuck is this?

Heavy footfalls make their way over, standing right over him. He can hear the Clown's labored breathing and the smell of death mixed with cheap whiskey sting his nostrils.  
Pain, fear, and disgust claw at his brain, all the more intensified as he feels fingers dragging their way up and along the slashes in his back.  
It's slow, moving his fingers almost intimately along his sliced open back. The Clown, Kenneth as he was once know, dips his fingers in deeper, delighting in the shaking and sensation of warm blood against his skin. Dwight winces and lets out a haggard breath.  
This draws another cruel laugh from him.

“Pretty lil thing, aren't ya darlin?”

Oh Jesus Christ this guy talks?

Why does that make this whole experience worse? A few of the others had their stupid quips- that douchebag in the long coat and stupid mask always had to have the last word- but so many were silent.  
The odd unholy noises, scream, whatever.  
But this gross asshole?  
Darling?  
A small wretch catches in Dwight's throat.

“So frail...Too cute for the hook, hehe. Look better with somethin else in ya”

If that wasn't the worst thing he's ever heard, he's not sure what is. Of course, he has no way of knowing the future so.  
Worst thing so far.  
There's not much subtlety to the statement, not that he has time to possibly search for any other meaning before the Clown's massive hands grab him by the back of the fucking neck and pull him up and way too close.

The other hand snakes around, rubbing up along his thigh, pressing his back against his captor.  
The heaving of the Clown's chest combined with a low rumble...almost a purr.  
A newfound panic surged and popped through Dwight's brain causing him to struggle, desperate to wiggle out of his grasp.

"Aw. Now now little bird" The Clown cooed, pulling something from his hip and uncorking it.  
"You need to relax~"  
The bottle is immediately pressed to Dwight's lips, pouring into his mouth and running down his chin in thick pink rivulets.  
He coughs in protest as the concoction coated his throat, swallowing only to avoid drowning.  
It was sickly sweet, like cotton candy, cough syrup, and blood. Strangely medicinal.  
He'd been hit with the bombs before, that weird drugged cloud that fucking sucked to walk through.  
He had never even thought of what would happen if he drank it.

Almost instantly his vision blurs and swirls around him, his body feels light, and the Clown's laugh as his body goes limp in his arms feels almost far away.

"Theeere we go, baby. That feel good?"  
Kenneth grabs Dwight's chin and nods his head up and down in agreement. He can feel fingers slipping between his lips, and wretches slightly. They taste disgusting and they're very pushy as the pump in and out of his mouth, rubbing against his tongue.  
The Clown spends a bit finger fucking his mouth, just visalizing what he was going to do to the man- releasing him only to spin him around and push him to his knees.  
Christ, the sudden movement reacting with the dizzying effect of the potion made him sick to his stomach, hands shooting out to brace himself against his legs eyes clamping shut to try and steady the world around him.

He can hear the unmistakable sound of a belt being undone but it doesn't actually register until he feels yet another thing being pressed against his face.  
Slowly he opens his eyes to confirm that the Clown is slowly stroking his half hard...surprisingly large cock right against his face and wobbling above it is his empty black eyes and sick expecting grin.  
Kenneth gleams down as his captive little bird, looking so pretty under him, strings of pink dripping from his face.

"Open up now"  
he purrs, bringing his other hand down to pull his lower jaw down and start slipping his dick in.  
Dwight is too disoriented and sluggish to resist, his mouth being opened further and further to take his entire length.

Ken starts slowly at first, but picks up the pace quickly, gripping Dwight's hair roughly to push himself farther in to slam the back of his throat. The rapid movement is even more disorienting, choking for air around his cock.  
He can't be sure how long the clown is fucking his throat as the tonic wears off, the sounds of wheezing breathing picking up in intensity coming closer to his senses as he gets closer to cumming.  
The pain in his jaw and his throat being thrashed also becoming more apparent.  
Strength returning, Dwight's hands grip tighter to try and push off, his whole body being shook with each thrust and his glasses practically being knocked off.  
It's honestly impressive they hadn't already been lost to the ether.  
Dwight's grip against him and sudden burst of energy sent a sickenly delightful rush through his dick. With another rough tug on his head and a few more rapid thrusts, he pulls the poor man off to grab himself and finish on his face.  
Thick ropes of cum shoot from his dick, blasting his glasses and dripping down his face to mix with the pink tonic and saliva coating his lips and chin.  
It's revolting. His stomach turns as his face is painted worse than the clown's, practically retching and doubling over as he let's him go.  
At least it was over?  
Sure the after effects of the drugs made him feel like he was beat with a brick on the wobbliest waterbed but..it was over.

Or so he thinks  
Until the killer let's out another sick cruel laugh  
“Looks like you took a pie to the face, baby! Let's get you up here-”

What? No no no  
He feels himself being lifted again and dragged over to the knife throwing target, once again struggling.  
As his face is pressed against the red and white rings, his thrashing prevents him from registering and order given to him.  
Unfortunate really as the order was  
“grab onto the knives.”

Failure to comply results in a low dissatisfied grunt.

Well that just won't do.

With a flourish, and holding Dwight against the target by the back of his neck, he drives madame Butterfly right through his right hand- pinning him to the target.

Fuck! Another searing wave of pain rips through his shaking body, setting his entire arm on fire. His struggling stops quickly as all movement around the knife sends more stabbing pains through his nerves.  
“Now now. Not behaving for daddy are we? Gotta keep you in place.”  
Kenneth dislodged another knife and swiftly stabs his other hand, trapping Dwight against the target.

He lets out another loud echoing sob of pain, desperately trying to hold his body steady to avoid any further damage.  
Christ. Tears sting his eyes, and he can't think of anything but the pain.  
Even as the filthy hands of the clown trace their way over his body and tug at his clothes, he can't care.  
It just fucking hurts.  
He wants the pain gone, needs it gone.  
Whatever is going to happen here, he can't experience that AND this searing pain. It's almost worse than the fucking hooks.  
He needs...  
That tonic.  
Being drugged may be the only way to endure this.

Finding his voice proves to be difficult, throat scratchy from screaming and sucking.  
“Please...th-the tonic”  
He sounds hoarse and pathetic.

“Oooh?” Kenneth holds up another bottle and swirls it in the bright lights, admiring its shine.  
“Please, what?”

“p-please...sir?”

“No no no, heh heh” he pops the cork off and holds it close to Dwight's face to get a whiff.  
“Try again~”

Oh god. He has an idea.  
And it almost feels worse than the knives.  
“Please. Daddy.”

"Atta boy" He croons, wasting no time to dump another bottle into Dwight's mouth which he this time takes gratefully.  
As he waits for it to take it's hold he can feel the sensation of a knife tearing his clothes apart until his entire backside is exposed to the cool misty night air.  
Normally he'd be mortified, horrified, and any other -ifieds that could fit but  
That medicine was hitting just right to make him not feel much of anything.  
The pain in his hands, a distant memory.  
Hands running up the back of his legs and caressing his hips, not even a concern.  
He's not even disturbed anymore that he called this freak 'daddy'  
He can be daddy of he wants!  
Why worryyy? S'all gooooood!  
...Hey Dwight, maybe double dosing was a bad idea my guy.

Kenneth isn't complaining, admiring the frail little prize in front of him, those ever gnawing hedonistic desires churning inside him.  
He's once more hard as a rock, eager to ruin his victim.

Gathering up some saliva in his throat, he pulls off his disgusting glove to spit into his hand and slick up Dwight's ass.  
His wet fingers tease around his entrance, pressing himself into his back so his heavy breath could waft over his neck.  
He slips a finger in and even in his looped up state, Dwight gasps loudly feeling his body shudder at suddenly having a finger in him.  
It's a weird violating feeling, unfamiliar but not...the worst? Uncomfortable at first but he adjusts to the pumping motion.  
A finger wouldn't be the biggest deal, but the Clown's hand was huge and taking him to the knuckle was nothing to sneeze at.  
Just breathe.  
"Yeah? That feel good, baby?" The Clown chuckles feeling the man's heavy breathing against him.  
"Well hope you're excited for the real thing"  
Roughly, he removes his finger, not the most generous prep work. He slobbers on his hand again and tugs at his cock.  
Dwight lets out a strange noise as the Clown pulls out, still breathing heavily.  
That was a weird first time being fingered, but he's fine! High as fuck!  
He's not fully aware that he's rocking a little half chub, but to be fair he's not fully aware of much.  
Speaking of...what's that sound? It sounds like...humming?  
Is this weirdo humming as he strokes and lines up his dick?  
It almost sounds like  
Pop goes the weasel?

Oh it sure is, Ken humming the wind up, pressing his dick head against Dwight's ass and on the   
POP  
He thrusts in hard.

Little bigger than the finger, and Dwight lets out another loud cry which only excites the clown more.  
It's a sweet sound, music to his ears.  
He grips firmly on his hips and starts pounding into his 'little bird', gut slapping against his back harshly.

Sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoes through the realm, accompanied by labored wheezing, cries, and somewhat slurred moans.  
The initial shock of penetration was slowly being lost in him, each thrust hitting his gspot violently.  
His vision is swirling, head rolling back to glance up at the night sky.  
The stars shake in a dizzying fashion, his body flooding with heat as he stares.

Skin going flush and moans getting louder, Kenneth revels at that adorable heart beat, releasing one of his hips to grip at Dwight's chest.  
Oof, grabbed so tight he left a bruise along his side.  
Well it wont matter soon anyways.  
Gripping at his chest as if grabbing a tit, he brings his grotesque chapped lips to his neck.  
Kissing softly as first, leaving traces of paint along his skin, he grins darkly before biting down roughly.  
Sparks fly across Dwight's vision as the rush of pleasure mixing with the tonic drives him wild. He bucks his hips back into the cock in his ass and doesn't even notice his hands pulling at the knives- blood absolutely pouring down the target.

"Mmph! Fuck!"  
He removes his lips to lick at the hickey starting to form  
"Like that, little bird? Daddy make you feel good?"

He keeps thrusting and sucking at Dwight's neck, leaving the man completely unable to reply.  
He's a quivering panting mess, dick leaking precum and glasses long since fallen off.  
While he knows that Dwight is fucked out of his mind on his tonic and also his dick, he's not satisfied not hearing a reply- especially since he was so close.  
He stops fondling Dwight's tit to pull back on his hair and hiss in his ear.  
"Answer me, slut. Does. Daddy. Make. You. Feel. Good?"  
Each word is punctuated with a quick deep thrust and Dwight should be happy he's so lost in the sauce so he cant realize he's literally drooling as his ass gets slammed.

"Yes!" He finds words again, legs trembling as he can feel himself getting close, wanting nothing more now than to finish "Yes, daddy, yes it f-feels so g~ood! Thank you!"  
God what's in that stuff to make him talk like this?  
He barely recognizes himself but he doesn't care.  
This place has been nothing but absolute fucking misery since the fog took him, can he not enjoy one fleeting good feeling for a minute?  
It's grotesque and obscene but in this moment it's the only thing he's been able to find pleasurable.  
That was all Kenneth needed to hear to push him over the edge.  
His victim was a completely looped out drooling slut begging for his cock and it was absolutely delicious.  
A few more good thrusts, panting heavily, his nails dig into Dwight's hip as he loudly pumps his load into him.  
He holds him in place, groaning and mumbling more disgusting dirty talk Dwight can't even make out.  
Dwight twitches, coming down from both highs slowly, still being firmly held in place.  
He can feel several dull aches pulsing through his body.  
Well...at least it lasted long enough to do it's job.

With a groan, the clown pulls out, cum running down his legs.  
He looks a fucking mess  
Blood, sweat, and now clown cum.

Ken steps back to admire his work, but he's not the only one.  
Dwight hears the sound of...a camera?  
Is someone else there??  
He cranes his neck back to see, tragically coming back to his senses.

"Haha. Gross!"  
Dwight sees that freak in the long white mask and stupid trench coat snapping pics on his old school camera, standing just behind the clown.

"Damn, Bozo. Did a number on him, huh? Was wonderin what was takin so long. Now I see!"  
Danny chuckles, pocketing the camera and bouncing on his heels.  
Kenneth doesn't reply, tucking his dripping dick back into his pants with a grunt.  
Another weird mask guy butting into his fun.

"Soooo"  
Danny un-sheaths his knife, flipping it in the air before catching it and aiming it at Dwight.  
"You gonna finish him off? Or could I do the honors?"  
Even under the mask, Dwight can hear the fiendish smile.

The Clown stares down at the other killer, black eyes glowering, and shakes his head.  
He remains silent, but the point comes across.  
This bitch was his to finish.

Posture dropping, Ghostface watches as Kenneth reaches forward to sharply pull Dwight off the target.  
Boo.  
The knives come with Dwight's hands, remaining painfully lodged as he's tossed to the ground with a whimper.  
He lays on the ground again as the clown stands over him.  
Bringing his leg up, his boot slams down on his head with a sickening crunch  
Slam!  
Again  
And again  
Until his head is a puddle in the dirt.  
Everything goes dark for Dwight, silent.  
He awakens to a crackling fire, back in the purgatory of waiting.  
He glances at his hands, expecting to see something...but  
What?  
What happened?  
Huh...  
That last trial felt...exceptionally excruciating but..huh  
He's sure it's nothing.  
This place was always miserable  
Just keep your cool, little bird.


End file.
